Armageddon's Son (HYBRID: The Ethereal War Book 1)

by Greg Ballan

  "Erik this isn't a personal vendetta you can embark on like a solo special op."

  Erik nodded as he grabbed a towel. "I know. I need more intel on our opponents and our allies in this war and I intend to wring that information from our reluctant padre and our Vatican hosts. I'd bet huge money he knows who killed William and I intend to get that tidbit from him as well. We're going to start behaving badly, Martin, just like the swashbuckling Americans we're supposed to be. We're scrapping the rulebook on this one! Agreed?"

  Martin nodded. "I'll let Bishop O'Malley and the Archbishop know you'll be interrogating the witness." Denton paused before he closed the door. "Give Shanda my best." Denton pointed toward the closet. "I brought over some clothes. Your shirt and undershirt were a complete loss."

  Martin closed the door and Erik stared at the cell phone. He tossed it on the table. He knelt on the floor, assuming a lotus position, then closed his eyes and focused on the most important woman in his world. He gently reached out to her mind across the thousands of miles separating them.

  Shanda, baby. Can you hear me?

  Her mental essence embraced him like a warm blanket. Erik. Thank God! We were terrified! What happened to you?

  Oh babe, it's a long story. There's some crazy stuff going on over here. William's death was just the top layer of a rotten onion. I promise I'll explain everything to you when I get home. This is important. Don't let EJ out of your sight, not even for a minute. And keep your telepathic senses acute to any kind of presence—alien, human or just unusual.

  Okay, but now you've got me worried. Are we in danger?

  Shanda I don't honestly know. I don't think so, but I don't want to gamble with your safety. I'll know more in a few hours and I'll contact you again later. Do you remember "Little John" from the gym?

  Yeah, he's as big as a house. EJ calls him the happy giant.

  Yeah, that's the guy. I'm going to have him look in on you at the store a few times just so I'll be a bit more at ease.

  Erik what aren't you telling me?

  Babe, Martin and I were just exposed to a world we never knew existed. I fought something that wasn't alien and it wasn't human. It had supernatural origins. I plan on gathering the rest of the intel we need to find William's killer and be on a plane for home as soon as I can. I have to cut this short. I'm expected back at the main hall. Please tell EJ I'm fine and I love him.

  I will, please be careful Erik. You nearly gave me a heart attack.

  I'm sorry, Angel. I had my guard down, but not anymore. I'm about to go 'Bull in the china shop' as you're so fond of saying.

  Erik could sense her eyes rolling and felt her concern deepen.

  I know it won't do me any good to tell you to please be careful and to tread lightly. But please be careful. She paused. And try to tread lightly.

  I'll try. Take care, hun, and I love you.

  I love you too, Erik. Don't forget my souvenir. It better be a doozy after what you put me through. Shanda's essence faded but Erik relished the sensation of his wife's presence still lingering in his thoughts.

  Erik glanced at the wall clock. It was after two. "Home is six hours behind. John should be out and about unless he worked a double at the warehouse." He picked up his phone and dialed.

  He waited patiently and was rewarded.

  "Little John, it's me, Erik."

  "Hey Dude! Where the hell are you? Alyssa gave some line about you rolling with the Pope in Rome?"

  "Yeah I'm overseas, 'rolling with the Pope' … well maybe the Archbishop and his boyz, Alissa wasn't teasing you. Bro, I need a favor."

  "Name it and you got it!" Erik smiled. His friend was eager to help out.

  "You know where Shanda's shop is, right?"

  "Yeah, right off route 140 in the big plaza. Her place is right by the cinema."

  "Bingo! Can you stop by there a few times today and tomorrow and let yourself be seen talking to her and playing with EJ for a few minutes? If anyone has eyes on them, I want them to realize what they're up against. Can you do that for me?"

  "Yeah, no problem. Are you expecting trouble? I can carry some hardware."

  "No, John, I'm not expecting anything, and yeah just keep the hardware concealed. It never hurts to be armed. I'm just being cautious. There's some shit going on here and I don't want to be worried about my family. Having someone I trust nearby would greatly ease my sense of calm." Erik grunted a few times as his friend assured him, he'd keep eyes on his family. "I owe you. Hey the Italian place next door to Shanda's store—you tell the manager, Antonio, to take care of you and put it on my tab."

  "Do what ya need to do. I'll watch things here."

  "Thanks, John. I should be home in a few days."

  Erik ended the call and headed for the shower. He had a busy afternoon.

  ◆◆◆

  Washington DC, Columbia Heights

  "Dokarth is the oldest and most powerful of the nosferatu!" Molec's onyx hands steepled in frustration as he leaned back in the large plush chair, "and the hybrid human simply vaporized him?"

  "Yes, sir, the report we received from our spy was very detailed. Supposedly the grand courtyard in Vatican City is nothing but a twenty-foot deep crater and what's left of Dokarth is just a few scattered cinders somewhere in the center."

  "What about the child?"

  Molec's underling flinched. Our specter isn't in the child's room anymore. It's in the side yard hiding in a pine tree. The child is able to see into the Ethereal Realm. Our spirit beings are not hidden from his gaze. Also there is a low level Seraphim watching the home. It flies over the property several times each hour. It is aware of our agent's presence but is simply watching for now. Any aggressive action taken would be immediately countered and we would tip our hand to both the Lords of Light and Dark."

  "The child must be neutralized if our plan is to unfold and we are to seize this world for our own and the souls that live here. A single Seraphim Angel isn't a threat. We can kill it easily and spill the child's blood before any forces of Light can respond."

  "What about the hybrid? If we kill the child, the father will become battle raged. His Esper side will undoubtedly be unleashed and he'd hunt us down like a bloodhound. The Lords of Light would aid him and he would force a confrontation, sir. We would be exposed and our efforts to take this planet brought into the daylight."

  "We would have already won the war. We have the holy relic." Molec pointed toward the ectoplasmic sphere. "And we'd have killed the vessel destined to wield it. The second coming would never occur and we could open a portal and flood this planet with demons and spirits loyal to our cause. Light would be banished and humanity would become a slave race and food source." Molec studied the ruby crucifix. Even trapped within its cosmic prison, he could feel the holy essence penetrating this most powerful of containment chambers. Nothing on Earth or in the Heavens save for the hand of God and the chosen being could handle and contain the power coursing through the object. "Once we control Earth and our forces are here, killing the hybrid will be a simple task for Legion or another higher demonic power." Molec flexed his arms and cracked his knuckles. "I would even entertain battling the Esper myself. It's been over ten thousand years since I fought an Esper Warrior. I don't think this cheap human copy is as fierce as his legend."

  The underling nodded in agreement with his master, deliberately keeping his facial expression blank to hide his skepticism. "What are your orders, Master Molec?"

  "I want the hybrid eliminated. We can't send any more forces to Vatican City. The Lords of Light are on their guard. They will, no doubt, blame Lucifer's forces for this unlawful attack, which will only benefit us." Molec laughed as he drank from a priceless bottle of wine. "When he leaves the protection of the Holy City, we'll have an ambush waiting for Heaven's guardian. I want to see just how far I can push this warrior and just what the limits of his power are." Molec drained the bottle and wiped his mouth with fine linen.

  "As you wish, Master Molec."
/>   Molec's burning red eyes sparkled. The essence of pure evil radiated off his charcoal black face. "I don't make wishes, I make demands! Am I clear, human?"

  "As you command, Master Molec," The lean human bowed and left the demon to sulk over his loss.

  Chapter 6. The Price of Betrayal

  Vatican City, Rome

  Erik approached the door to the Vatican meeting room. The hot shower and the chance to speak with Shanda gave the embattled detective some small semblance of recovery. Several questions still needed answering and Father Bashir was the man who undoubtedly had those answers. Erik hoped he'd spilled his guts and Martin and the bishops had everything they needed to wrap up this ugly episode. But his inner senses told him to expect the worst. His escort paused as they approached the large door. The man bowed to the two guards and Erik was allowed admittance.

  Heavy tension thickened the air. The detective took his seat, nodding once toward Martin. Father Bashir was in some type of burlap smock and his wrists were secured with crude wrought iron chain. The turncoat priest looked miserable and the two men interrogating him were visibly frustrated.

  Erik poured a glass of water. "I take it Father Bashir has had a change of heart now that the imminent threat to his life has passed."

  Bishop O'Malley's face wrinkled with frustration. "It appears that way."

  "The good father promised to spill his guts if we saved his life," Denton remarked dryly. "It appears his word isn't reliable."

  "Bashir is a liar and a crook!" One of his guards spat angrily.

  Erik stood, his arm shot across the table like a striking cobra grabbing the priest. Erik held the captive up by one arm, his fist clenched in the rough smock. The rogue priest's legs dangled over the table, knocking over glasses and scattering papers. "You listen to me, padre, and you listen good. I could go into your head and take every last thought you ever had and leave your mind nothing but a decayed vegetable. Is that what you want?" Erik heaved the terrified priest across the room like a rag doll. The stunned captive skidded across the floor slamming into the far wall with bone jarring force. The bishops cried out in shock but the detective ignored them and stalked toward the captive.

  He grabbed the struggling man and hefted him into the air. "I'll give you one last chance to spill it before I take your thoughts from you."

  "Do whatever you like, hybrid … nothing you can do would compare to the horrors I'd suffer if I talked."

  "Please, Mr. Knight," the Archbishop cried out, "brutality is uncalled for."

  Erik shot the bishops a look. "We don't have time for games, gentlemen. While we pussyfoot around with Father Bashir, trying to coax any tidbit of information, your enemies are busy planning their next move. It would be nice if we had some reliable intelligence."

  "We know who we're facing already, Detective. We gleaned that information from one of our holy emissaries in Washington. We just want confirmation of a few facts from Bashir before he's imprisoned."

  "I cannot talk and I will not talk." Bashir insisted struggling under Erik's iron grip. "There are worse things than prison, Archbishop." Bashir looked down at the enraged detective. "There's no manner of torture you can put upon my body that could be any worse than what they would do to me."

  Erik sensed the priest's abject terror. The man wasn't going to talk no matter what he did. "I believe you, Father Bashir. I'm convinced." The detective lowered the renegade priest, grabbed the wrought iron chains and snapped the links effortlessly. He gently ripped the iron bracelets off Bashir's wrists and tossed them on the ivory floor.

  "What are you doing?" The priest rubbed his wrists made raw by the rough manacles.

  "I'm letting you go." Erik's lethal baritone echoed off the empty walls.

  "What!" the bishops exploded.

  Erik raised a finger. "How far does the protection of the Lord of Light carry outside Vatican City?"

  "The blessings and protections are only upon the consecrated holy ground, Detective."

  "So any dark and evil creepy crawlies can be lurking pretty much right outside the gates?"

  Bishop O'Malley nodded understanding the detective's approach. "Yes, that's quite possible, Detective. There is no protection outside the Vatican gates from evil. The rules of the Ethereal Beings apply even to Rome. This scant two-mile parcel of land called Vatican City has the special blessings and protection. Outside these walls is the same as any other neutral territory."

  Erik nodded. "Well Father Bashir," Erik pointed toward the door. "Good luck, out there on your own. I'm sure whomever you work for has acolytes watching the holy city. I'm sure your employer…"

  "Molec," the Archbishop injected.

  Erik looked over and smiled. "Molec, will want to interrogate you upon your release."

  Bashir went white with fear. The priest visibly trembled. "You can't do that. You have to lock me up here, in the protection of the city."

  "Bashir, we don't have to do any such thing." The Archbishop's voice was as chilling as the nosferatu Erik fought earlier. "I don't want the expense of feeding you, nor do I want you contaminating the city's penance chambers. Penance is for those who truly regret their sins and I sense you have no regret and your soul is totally owned by the darkness. We cast you out, Bashir. Go now and take your chances with the hell spawn you serve."

  "Please, I beg you. Don't do this." Bashir wept openly. "I will tell you everything I know. Just please don't send me out there. I know they're waiting for me."

  The Archbishop leaned forward. "You have one chance, Bashir. I'll give you ten minutes to tell us your tale. You'd better have nuggets of gold or I'll see you tossed out onto the street naked as the day you were born."

  Bashir sang like a canary, confirming Molec was behind the opening of the Esper Worldship, instigating the Observer incident, and caused several other world calamities in an attempt to disrupt the normal conflict between Light and Dark. The disgraced priest implicated several nuns who whored themselves out to weak-willed priests and senior Vatican staff sharing whatever intelligence they could gather back to the arch demon and his servants. Bashir implicated several members of the US Senate, Russian political hierarchy, Chinese politicians, and several other powerful world leaders. The terrified priest implicated terrorists groups and radical political action committees all having ties back to Molec's underground organization. After thirty minutes of nonstop talking, the bishops, Erik and Martin sat dumbfounded.

  The Archbishop openly prayed to God for guidance and blessings. He turned to Bashir's guards. "Lock him in a cell and have three of our elite guards posted. No one goes into see him without being accompanied by Bishop O'Malley. If they're approached and O'Malley isn't with them, they have my personal orders to kill."

  Something struck Erik's memory. "Wait, Bashir, one last thing!" He turned toward O'Malley. "Father Donlan's picture, do we have it?"

  "Yes, on the table in that large white envelope. In all the ruckus, I confess to having forgotten about it."

  Erik opened the envelope and studied the picture. It was a perfect reproduction of the image he projected to the nervous priest. The young priest had captured the look and even the dark feeling of the being that committed the atrocities. "This man, do you know him? Is he an agent of Molec, too?"

  Bashir made a show of studying the picture carefully, but Erik saw the look of recognition. Bashir looked at the detective. "He is not Molec's creature. Father Lazarus serves his own calling."

  Erik's jaw dropped. "Father Lazarus? Are you saying a priest killed those young men and tore up that basement chapel?" Erik glanced over at Martin. How could they have been so wrong? The sense of evil inhabiting the chapel was overwhelming and the images he'd seen were horrific! Surely a priest wouldn't be capable of such horrid acts? Erik shook his head. Bashir wasn't telling him the whole story. There was a piece missing. The detective hoped it was a very big piece.

  Erik looked to the Archbishop and his council. They were visibly disturbed by Bashir's revelation. Each
holy man studied the printed image and nodded. The detective turned back at Bashir. "Okay, you've managed to shake us up. I'm assuming our culprit isn't just a priest, I'm guessing something happened to him that made him more." He paused to rephrase. "Or possibly less than human. Would you care to elaborate on what you know about this man?"

  Something in the disgraced priest snapped and he cackled a dark, sinister chuckle rich with irony. He looked over at the bishops. "They know who he is. They who sit in false, pious judgment of me know Lazarus. He was betrayed by the church hierarchy, here in the city before it became its own independent state. The Bishops' Council didn't want him serving and ruined him, disgraced the man, and drove him into the arms of darkness." Bashir pointed an accusing finger toward the stunned Archbishop. "You know the tale old man. I can see by the look of shame on your face, you know the tale of Lazarus, the holy man whose own colleagues betrayed him for being too pious." Bashir spat on the white floor. "Lazarus killed your son, Martin Denton, and the very people you ally yourself with created the beast. You're siding with those directly responsible for your son's death!" Bashir laughed another hideously vile cackle, "Tell them the story, Archbishop. Tell them the tale of the betrayal. Tell them how the church drove Lazarus to become the accursed night crawler that craves the taste of flesh and blood. "

  The Archbishop pointed toward the door. "Get him out of my sight, now. I want the basement fires lit and fed constantly. We'll sweat the sin from Bashir's soul and burn the arrogance from his tongue!"

  Martin leaned close. "It appears our turncoat padre struck a sensitive nerve."

  Erik nodded, never taking his eyes off the Archbishop. The old man's hand trembled. His face shifted between righteous anger, hidden shame, and back again. Bashir wasn't lying, that much his hybrid senses knew. "Another untold truth. The church seems as secretive as any political organization in DC."

  Denton nodded slightly. "It certainly looks that way. But now I know who killed William." Denton's eyes were frosty. "I know who to hunt down." His brow wrinkled. "Or what to hunt down. The lines are kind of blurry right now."